


Laid Bare

by mickeym



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes secrets shouldn't be kept, and sometimes they can't be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laid Bare

The wind picked up unexpectedly, stirring leaves and little swirls of dust into tiny cyclones. The back of Dean's neck prickled uncomfortably, and he turned slowly, eyes darting all around.

 

She was nothing more than a shade, a shadow within a shadow, light from the streetlamp just ahead cascading over and around her. When she brushed against him it was like tendrils of ice stroking over his skin.

 

"All you think, all you feel, all you fear will be revealed."

 

The words were softly spoken, almost sing-song, and wound all around him. Dean felt each one take hold as cold shivered its way through his body, dropping him to his knees; he yelled in surprise and heard Sam holler his name in return. He was still shivering when Sam came around the corner, gun leveled at--nothing.

 

There was nothing there, no one but the two of them.

 

Dean was still cold.

 

"C'mon, let's get you back to the motel," Sam muttered, still glancing around them.

 

Dean heaved himself upright and whispered, "wish you would hold me."

 

Sam froze in place and stared. "You what?"

 

"Nothing." Dean shook his head. "I didn't say anything." But he could feel the words wrapping tighter around him; in his head, in his brain, wherever _emotions_ came from, and panic skittered along every nerve. "Sam, I--"

 

Sam frowned. "What?"

 

Dean bit his tongue, because oh, God, the words wanted _out_, and he didn't know how to stop them, or how long he could hold them back.

 

"Dean, what?"

 

Oh, _God_. "I don't want it to just be blowjobs and shit when we're drunk. I want--all of you, Sam." Dean closed his eyes and prayed for immediate and instant death. It was one thing to think of it; another thing entirely to blurt it out.

 

Sam stared again, eyes wide and dark with confusion, surprise, a little wariness. "You want--" A wet sound, probably Sam licking his lips or swallowing, or something; Dean wanted to look but couldn't make himself.

 

"We fuck and I roll over, and I want--shit, Sam, make me stop _please_\--" Dean slapped a hand over his mouth, but it didn't stop the words from leaking out anyway. "I want you, I want to stay and be close to you afterward…I hate the fucking word, but, cuddle--I want to hold on to you, _need_ to hold on to you, Sam. Always."

 

As soon as the words were out, Dean felt the constriction around him loosen. He wasn't sure if he should be pissed off, or relieved.

 

He opened his eyes then, resigned to what he'd see: Sam, getting ready to mock him (Dean totally would, in his place), or pulling out the vial of holy water maybe, to exorcise him, or hell, just backing away, a _who the hell are you and where's my brother?_ expression on his face. What he saw, instead, was Sam giving him a look that held more warmth, more want, more _love_ than Dean thought any one person -- especially him -- deserved.

 

"You're an idiot," Sam finally said, his tone fond. "You know that, right?"

 

Dean shrugged. "Not the first time I've heard it." He swallowed hard. "So, uh. If we could never--"

 

"No talking about it," Sam nodded. "But some things are gonna change."

 

Tension he hadn't even fully realized he carried relaxed, and Dean stepped forward, hope warring with the need to be cautious, to protect himself. "Kinda was hoping," he managed, just before Sam surged forward, pushing him up against the tree he didn't remember being there, ten minutes ago.

 

Sam's mouth on his, wet, warm kisses that gave and took at the same time, made Dean think whatever'd just happened…was probably worth the embarrassment still flushing hot through him.

 

"C'mon, Dean," Sam whispered, the words pressed in between quick kisses. "Motel. Okay?"

 

Dean couldn't resist one last look around, eyes still searching for whoever or whatever had done this, but he and Sam were the only ones out on the street. The motel sign blinked neon pink at them from up the block, and behind him the streetlight fizzed and hummed, and off in the distance a car backfired, but that was it.

 

Just them, and finally, no secret wishes between them.

 

~fin~


End file.
